


Even Walls Fall Down

by LSquared80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Leap Year (movie), Road Trips, Tarth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Jaime's girlfriend issues an ultimatum - propose on their anniversary or it's over. In his attempt to reach her in time, Jaime ends up stranded on Tarth and hires Brienne to transport him across the island.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Margaery Tyrell, Renly Baratheon/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 94
Kudos: 296





	1. some days are diamonds, some days are rocks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a bit of a "insert Jaime and Brienne into modern romantic movies" kick. I was watching Leap Year recently when I was home sick and was struck by how well Jaime and Brienne fit into the story - two characters isolated on the road, bickering. I saw Jaime as the Amy Adams of the story, though. 
> 
> To make it harder for Jaime to communicate with anyone while he's on Tarth, this story is set in a time before cell phones, tablets, etc.
> 
> Title is from one of my favorite Tom Petty songs, "Walls (Circus)."

The airport in Pentos was crowded with anxious and irritated travelers. Jaime Lannister and his father escaped the chaos in the bar closest to their gate. The departure time of their flight home to King’s Landing had been delayed another hour and they settled into a booth with a pint of ale. 

Jaime opened his wallet and removed two crisp dollar bills to leave as a tip. His eyes landed on the photograph peeking out from behind one of the pockets that held his credit cards. Jaime lifted it to see his girlfriend, Margaery, smiling back at him. 

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Tywin remarked. 

Jaime slid the photograph back into the pocket and closed his wallet. “Yes, she is,” he agreed. The third anniversary of their first date was three days away. While he was happy with the way things were, she hoped for an engagement ring on every special occasion. He could see the disappointment on her face when a birthday, holiday, or romantic vacation ended without a ring. All things considered, when Margaery sat him down before he left for Pentos and she to visit her brother in Storm’s End, Jaime thought she was merely giving him a hard time when she said, “If you don’t propose on our anniversary, I am going to have to walk away from this relationship.” 

He started to suspect she wasn’t kidding around when he found the newspaper open to apartment listings, with several – even in Storm’s End and her hometown of Highgarden – circled in red pen. Jaime _knew_ she hadn’t been joking when he intercepted a phone call for Margaery from Mercy General Hospital in Storm’s End. _“We wanted to confirm her interview is at one o’clock on the seventeenth.”_

Jaime made the mistake of telling his father about the ultimatum, and not for the first time the older man asked, “Have you made a decision about proposing?” 

“I don’t know. I th-” 

“You should believe her, Jaime,” Tywin warned. “Margaery is not going to wait around forever. She’s a catch.” 

Jaime sighed. His girlfriend _was_ a catch – a successful cardiologist, beautiful, and not scared off by his family’s dramatics. One of the main reasons Jaime hadn’t popped the question was their focus on demanding careers, not to mention how strongly he associated marriage with heartbreak; his mother died and left his father alone and broken, and Jaime’s first love rejected him only to marry another man. In addition, his younger brother had snatched their deceased mother’s ring to give to a woman who didn’t deserve the heirloom. 

“I could get the ring back from Tyrion if it became necessary,” Tywin said. 

Jaime looked at him. “I don’t...” 

“Son, you expect me to make you a partner in the firm, but you have yet to prove an ability to commit yourself to anything long-term. You switched schools twice and changed your major three times. You stopped practicing law for two years to run a restaurant.” 

“I’ve been with Margaery for _three_ years,” Jaime said, disputing the idea he couldn’t commit. 

Tywin shook his head. He took a drink of ale. “But there’s nothing tying the two of you together. You can leave at any time. The same thing goes for the firm, Jaime. Once you’re a partner, more is expected of you. You won’t be able to entertain every whim that crosses your mind. I need to know you’re capable of the dedication a partnership requires.” 

Jaime set his glass down. “I understand what you’re saying.” He scooted out of the booth. “I’ll be right back,” he said, grabbing the handle of his rolling suitcase and turning to walk out into the bright, noisy terminal. He’d initially fled the bar to put an end to what he perceived as a lecture, but when he spotted a row of payphones, Jaime decided to check in with Margaery. 

Someone he didn’t know answered and handed the phone off to her. She sounded almost annoyed, as though he’d interrupted something. “Is this a bad time?” he asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, no. Are you home yet?” 

Jaime explained the delay but lost his train of thought when he recognized a voice in the background as Margaery's ex-boyfriend. “We still have mutual friends,” she pointed out, but it was another reminder that she was not a woman who would stand at his side indefinitely without a proper commitment. She had options. 

A voice squawked on the speakers, announcing that Crownlands Flight 503 to King’s Landing was being transferred to a different gate. “I have to go,” Jaime said. 

“Okay. Will I see you Monday?” she asked pointedly, reminding him of their anniversary and the imposed deadline. 

“Of course,” Jaime told her. He ended the call by saying, “I love you.” A moment later he heard his father calling for him and the two men walked side by side through the terminal. While Tywin groused about never visiting Pentos again, Jaime’s thoughts cycled through the last week – apartment listings and Margaery’s apparent job search outside of King’s Landing, the ultimatum, his father implying career advancement was directly linked to getting married, and knowing his girlfriend was spending time in the company of her torch-carrying ex. 

For years Jaime had resisted the idea he was fated to work alongside his father, but he’d given in to the pressure and prospered. He’d always wanted to prove he didn’t need a family to live a fulfilling life, but with each passing year he wondered why he was so insistent on avoiding a predictable but comfortable – perhaps even happy – life. 

He stopped walking and Tywin turned around. “Jaime?” 

“I think I need to change my flight,” he said. “I need to get to Storm’s End.” 

* 

His seatmate was an elderly man who fell asleep and began snoring before the plane took off. Jaime smiled despite the less than ideal seating arrangement. He was feeling good about his decision to surprise Margaery in Storm’s End. His first stop would be a jewelry store to find a ring to propose with on the day of their anniversary – something simple that could be made into a sentimental keepsake, like a pendant. After, he would enlist his father’s help to pry Joanna Lannister’s diamond out of Tyrion’s hand. 

Jaime closed his eyes, but they snapped open when the plane was jostled by turbulence. The pilot’s voice crackled on the speakers, reporting an unexpected weather event. “I’m sorry, folks,” the pilot said, “but we’re going to have to land on Tarth.” 

“What did he say?” the man beside him asked. 

“We have to land on Tarth,” Jaime told him loudly. “There’s a storm.” 

The man narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Tarth doesn’t have an airport.” 

* 

The plane had bounced across a grassy field and landed near the border of a dirt road. Two busses transported the passengers to what seemed to be the island’s only hotel. While Jaime was trying to call Margaery from a pay phone in the lobby, all of the rooms were reserved by the other displaced travelers. “You have none left?” he asked, incredulous. 

A young man apologized and scribbled something on a piece of paper. 

“What’s this?” Jaime asked. 

“The address of Evenfall Inn,” the man told him. “And the number to call a cab in the morning.” 

Jaime sighed. “Can you just call a cab for me now?” 

“No cabs at this hour, sir.” 

Jaime looked at his watch. “It’s not even ten o’clock!” 

The man shrugged and rattled off directions to the inn. 

Shaking his head, Jaime turned for the exit. _At least it’s not raining_ he thought as he began the walk, but not five minutes later he heard a rumble of thunder. 

* 

The hotel clerk had made it sound like the inn was a block away, but Jaime found himself on a narrow dirt road without a building in sight. He shrugged out of his suit coat. He loosened the knot of his tie and the first few buttons of his white dress shirt and continued on. It struck him that he’d made a rash decision and was being punished for his spontaneity. But Jaime saw giving up as choosing to be alone, and continuing on gave him the opportunity to build a life with a woman he loved. 

The rain started as little more than a trickle, but soon it was a deluge. Jaime held his coat above his head with one hand, the other pulling his suitcase on the increasingly muddy road, but it was pointless to try to shield himself from the downpour. 

He came upon a sign for the Evenfall Inn with an arrow pointing up a steep hill. He cursed and began the climb. His leather oxfords offered little in the way of traction and he slipped more than once. By the time he reached the top of the hill, blades of grass were clinging to his wet pants and mud was caked on his shoes and the wheels of his bag. 

From what Jaime could see in the dark, Evenfall Inn was a squat, two-story building made of weathered siding with peeling paint and a roof that appeared to be missing a number of shingles. He looked for a sign pointing him to an office, but the only entrance he could find opened to what looked like an old tavern. He stood in the doorway and the few patrons, all older men, silenced their conversation and turned to look at him. 

“Hello,” Jaime said as he tracked mud and water across the floor to approach the bar and the man standing behind it. “The hotel sent me here for a room,” he announced, but the bartender did not turn around or acknowledge his presence in any way. 

The men continued to stare at him in silence. 

“Is there an office?” he asked. The question went unanswered. “A front desk? Do I check-in here?” He looked to the patrons, wondering if the bartender was deaf or simply rude. “Excuse me, sir. You work here, yes?” 

The men all raised their eyebrows and whispered to one another. 

“Sir,” Jaime said, “can you please turn around and tell me how I can reserve a room?” 

The bartender slowly rotated to face him. 

Jaime held his breath. The bartender was a woman.


	2. some doors are open, some roads are blocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne reach an agreement and set out on the road.

The woman tending bar was taller than Jaime and her hair was shorter than his, but from the front there was no mistaking her gender. The baggy, plaid shirt she wore was unbuttoned enough to show the lacy trim of a white tank top and the shape of small breasts. Her plump lips were the most feminine feature of her plain, pale face. She stepped forward into the light and Jaime was surprised by her striking blue eyes. “I apologize,” he said. “But I do still need to speak with someone about a room. Is the owner around?” 

“I’m the owner,” the woman told him, hands on her hips. 

Jaime swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Wonderful. Do you have a room available for the night? I’m on the first bus of the morning.” 

The men all laughed uproariously. 

“Why is that funny?” Jaime asked. 

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” one of the men offered. 

Jaime looked at him. _So?_

“The busses don’t run on the weekend!” 

“Not at all?” Jaime asked. “Not on all of Tarth?” Everyone shook their head. He heaved a sigh. “Okay. Then I’m taking a cab to the other end of the island and sailing away from this godsforsaken place on the first ferry.” 

There was no more laughter; the men glared at him and one protested the insult by saying, “You’re lucky to set foot on Tarth, young man.” 

Jaime’s eyes searched the room until he spotted a payphone in the corner. He hoped the cab company was at least still taking calls to schedule an early pickup. He left his suitcase by the bar to stomp across the floor. He inserted coins and dialed the number the hotel clerk had given him. He heard a phone ringing behind the bar and saw the woman answer the call. Jaime groaned. “You’re the cab company too?” he asked into the receiver. 

“I am,” she said. 

He hung up and stomped back to the bar. “Look, Miss, my plane had to make an emergency landing. I need to get to Storm’s End to propose to my girlfriend. I _have_ to be there on Monday. I’ll pay you double- no, triple the normal rate for a room, a shower, and a ride in the morning.” 

“We could use the money,” one of the men said. 

Jaime folded his arms over the top of the bar. “I will pay quadruple, Miss- what is your name?” 

“Brienne,” she said. “Brienne Tarth.” 

He tilted his head. “Tarth?” 

She nodded. 

He didn’t have time to inquire about her sharing a name with the island. “I’m Jaime Lannister. I will pay quadruple, Miss Tarth.” 

“It takes three days to reach the other end of the island,” she told him. “I can’t leave the inn for three days.” 

The man who said she could use the money cleared his throat. He stood up from his stool and Jaime guessed they were father and daughter; the man’s head nearly collided with the ceiling. “I can watch the inn,” he said. “If you help him, we could make our goal.” 

“Goal?” Jaime asked. 

The man pointed to a large coffee cannister at the end of the bar. A piece of paper was wrapped around the can and _Help Save Evenfall_ was written across the front. “Last year we paid a pretty penny to repair storm damage. It’s been tough to make payments. The bank threatened to foreclose and sell us to a developer who would knock us down.” He wiped his hand on his jeans and extended it toward Jaime. “Selwyn Tarth. My family has run Evenfall for fifty years.” 

Jaime shook the man’s hand. “Fifty years? Have you tried to declare as a historic site?” 

“Several times,” Brienne jumped in. “But the Landmark Society is in cahoots with the developer and always finds a reason to deny the request.” 

“I’m an attorney,” Jaime said. “I could help you with that. Free of charge.” 

“A lawyer? I hate lawyers,” she told him. 

“I’m a good one. And I’ll still pay quadruple for a ride.” 

Brienne looked at him, grinding her teeth. “Fine.” 

* 

The room Jaime was given for the night smelled musty and the mattress sagged in the middle. But it was warm and dry and the bathroom at the end of the hallway had a working shower. 

He washed the day away – the stench of smoke from the airport, the stale air of the plane, the mud of Tarth – and rehearsed how he would propose to Margaery. Jaime couldn’t help but think back to his first, forbidden love and everything he’d said to her. He had to convince himself his feelings for Margaery weren’t as intense because he was older and wiser, and because their relationship was actually healthy and grounded. 

Certain he was the inn’s only guest, he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the narrow hallway wearing only a towel around his waist. The door to another room opened, startling him. Brienne emerged, wearing only a long-sleeved, oversized shirt. The hem hit just above her knee and Jaime’s eyes were drawn to her long, bare legs. “You live here?” he asked. 

Brienne nodded. 

Jaime grinned at the way a bright blush crawled from her chest to her cheeks as she tried to keep her eyes anywhere but on his naked torso. “I’m glad we ran into each other,” he told her. “Could I bother you for a bite to eat?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Kitchen closed at midnight.” 

“Couldn’t you just open it?” 

Brienne rolled her eyes again. “Fine.” 

“Maybe a fried egg and some bacon?” 

“You will have a sandwich or nothing at all,” she told him. 

* 

The kitchen was cold and Brienne regretted not changing into something warmer and less revealing. She set a loaf of bread on the counter and walked to the coat closet tucked away in a corner of the room. She plucked a sweater from a hanger and something fell from a pocket. 

Brienne bent and picked up a glossy photograph. Her chest tightened at the sight of her and Renly Baratheon posing in front of the inn, holding hands and smiling. She read the date stamp in the corner and realized it was taken exactly one year prior. The woman in the picture thought she and Renly would be husband and wife twelve months down the road, but he was currently living somewhere in Dorne with another man and she was alone. 

The sound of footsteps pulled Brienne from the memory. She crumpled the picture and tossed it, missing the trash can and not realizing it landed on the floor. She saw Jaime stroll into the kitchen and said, “Don’t touch anything,” when he reached to open a cabinet. 

He dropped his arms to his sides and backed away. “I was only trying to help.” 

“Well, don’t.” She removed four slices of bread from the bag and dropped them down onto a plate. She opened a jar of mustard and began to spread it on the bread. 

“I don’t like mustard,” Jaime told her. 

She glared at him and added another dollop, spreading it generously. Brienne piled on ham and swiss cheese before topping it off with another slice of bread. 

“No lettuce?” he asked. 

She took one sandwich for herself and slid the plate toward him with more force than needed. Brienne turned the light off, leaving him in the dark, as she walked into the dining area and sat at a table for two. When she saw Jaime walking toward her, she stretched her legs out and propped her feet up on the chair across from her. 

* 

Jaime was up and dressed before sunrise. He brewed coffee, knowing he would be scolded for taking it upon himself, and wandered around the kitchen. He noticed some trash on the floor and bent to pick it up. The crumpled paper was a photograph and he carried it to the counter, setting it down and smoothing out the wrinkles. 

It was a photograph of Brienne and someone he knew – Renly Baratheon. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. Renly’s preference for men had always been the worst kept secret in Westeros, and six months ago when Jaime heard the young man had broken an engagement to a woman to be with a man, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. Knowing the woman was Brienne sparked so many questions and shined a light on her dour disposition. 

He was startled by a noise and shoved the picture into the back pocket of his jeans. He ran out into the dining room and saw Selwyn hanging his coat from a hook on the wall. “Good morning,” Jaime greeted him. 

“Ah, Mr. Lannister. You’re up early.” 

“Jaime, please,” he said. “I wanted to be ready whenever Brienne is.” 

Selwyn smiled. “She never gets out of bed before ten.” 

It was barely six o’clock. “What?” 

“I open the place for breakfast,” Selwyn explained. He took a deep breath. “I see you got the coffee started for me. Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry, what? Brienne won’t be out of bed for another _four_ hours?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Well, can you wake her sooner?” 

Selwyn looked at him sternly before heading into the kitchen. 

“What? She needs beauty sleep?” Jaime asked under his breath, punctuated by a snort of laughter. He cringed when Selwyn peeked around the doorframe. 

“What was that?” the older man asked. 

Jaime cleared his throat. “Nothing. It sounds like the coffee is ready.” He marched into the kitchen, helping himself to a cup and pouring some for Selwyn. 

“I appreciate that you’re willing to pay my daughter so generously for a ride,” Selwyn began, “but I must ask that you treat her with kindness. Even if she’s being rather... surly. She’s had a rough year.” 

Jaime thought of the photograph tucked into the pocket of his jeans. “Oh? Is she okay?” 

“She will be. A broken heart needs time to heal.” 

“Did she lose someone?” 

“In a way.” 

Jaime could tell the man wasn’t going to offer any other details. “That’s why I’m in such a hurry,” he said. “To avoid breaking someone’s heart. And my own. My girlfriend is under the impression I don’t want to get married, but she’s wrong. I want to surprise her on our anniversary.” 

Selwyn took a sip of coffee. He seemed unfazed by Jaime’s story and was not inspired to wake Brienne and send them off. 

* 

Jaime paced the length of the floor, annoying the few patrons dining on eggs and toast. He looked at the clock every time he faced the wall where it hung, deciding that at half past ten he would storm the upstairs and demand Brienne get out of bed. To his relief she appeared at the top of the stairs several minutes before his self-imposed deadline. 

“Finally,” he groaned. 

She stopped midway down the stairs. “Finally?” she repeated. 

“I’ve been waiting for hours!” 

“You never said you wanted to leave at a specific time,” Brienne pointed out as she passed by him to go behind the bar. She looked inside the donation jar out of habit, always hoping to miraculously find more money had been added overnight. 

“Well, I’m telling you now that I would like to be on the road in ten minutes.” 

“Twenty,” she countered. 

He offered a tight smile. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he told her, turning and dragging his suitcase behind him. 

Outside, Jaime left his luggage by the door and walked the perimeter of the inn. He hadn’t taken the time to admire the beauty of the island, but Evenfall Inn was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. The water, he realized, was the same sapphire shade as Brienne’s oddly bewitching eyes. The sights and sounds and smells were tranquil and refreshing, and under other circumstances Tarth would be a place Jaime would enjoy spending a long weekend. 

He made his way back to the front of the building and soon heard car tires rolling on the pavement. Jaime watched an old, two-door car sputter and roll to a stop in front of him. He saw that Brienne was the driver and cursed under his breath. “This is the car you’re driving me around in?” he asked as she climbed out of the driver’s side. 

“Yes. This is my car,” she told him. 

Jaime shook his head. It was missing a hubcap and the hideous, lime green paint was peeling off the hood. “Something smells like it’s burning.” 

“It’s fine,” she insisted, opening the trunk. She picked up Jaime’s suitcase and carelessly tossed it in. 

“Hey! Be careful.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were transporting breakable goods.” 

“I’m not. But that’s a Sansa Stark.” 

“You named your luggage?” 

“That’s the _designer’s_ name. It’s very expensive.” 

She shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

Jaime noticed that since he’d seen her descending the stairs inside, Brienne had tucked her plaid button-down under the waistband of her jeans. She turned her back to him and he couldn’t help but observe she had a shapely backside. He quickly averted his gaze as she craned her neck to look at him and asked, “Ready?” 

They took their respective places in the car and Brienne turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered to life and Jaime glared at her. “Does it always make that noise?” he asked. 

“Don’t worry about my car. I’ve been driving it around Tarth for years and never had a problem.” 

* 

According to the clock they had been on the road for thirty minutes, but Brienne was certain it had been closer to thirty hours. Her patience had already been worn thin by Jaime’s constant critiquing of not only her car but her driving. He’d questioned her sense of direction many times and she always reminded him, “I’m the one who was born and raised here.” 

She glanced over and wondered if Jaime was pretending to be asleep. Either way she was grateful for the quiet and reminded herself how much his money was going to help their efforts to save the inn. The only other reason she didn’t mind Jaime’s company was that he knew nothing of her past. Since Renly left, the people in Brienne’s life treated her with kid gloves. The men who regularly drank at the bar felt the need to compliment her appearance, lying to bolster her confidence and make her think a better suited man could come along and fall for her. On one occasion, when the patrons thought she had gone outside, they all agreed it finally made sense why Renly had proposed to Brienne – he was gay and she was the manliest woman on the island. 

The car struggled up a steep hill, and at the top she could see a herd of cows blocking the road. Brienne slowed to a stop and shut the engine off. The lack of movement made Jaime open his eyes and he flinched at the sight of the cows crowded together in front of the car. “What in the seven hells is happening?” he asked. 

She laughed, shaking her head. “These are cows, Jaime.” 

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I know _what_ they are, Brienne. Can’t you go around them?” 

The narrow road was surrounded by tall, verdant grass. “No,” she said. “There could be a newborn calf we can’t see through the grass. Besides, trying to go around them will only scare them and-” She stopped talking when Jaime suddenly exited the car. Brienne sat up straighter, watching with amusement and disdain as he gestured wildly at the cows. She got out of the car and said, “You’re only going to agitate them.” 

Jaime ignored her and walked between the animals. He pointed toward the grass and offered encouraging words. He nudged them in either direction. After several minutes enough of them had crossed to one side of the road that the car had a clear path to continue on. “See? I knew what I was doing,” he declared, turning toward the car. 

“Don’t step in-” 

He stepped in a fresh pile of cow manure and as Brienne cackled, he squeezed his eyes shut. He extricated his foot and began shaking his boot. Jaime hopped backward on one foot until he was sitting against the hood of the car. He began removing the soiled shoe until he felt the sturdy surface beneath him shift. He stood and the vehicle slowly rolled away from them. 

Brienne scrambled to her feet, horrified, and they both chased after the car. It gained speed and they weren’t able to do anything to keep it from sailing down the hill it had fought so hard to climb. As she shouted obscenities and her feet pounded the road, Jaime yelled, “My suitcase is in there!” 

They both came to a stop as the car careened toward a pond. Brienne watched through her fingers, cringing. Mercifully, something in the water stopped the entire vehicle from being submerged. But enough of it was in the murky water to prevent them from being able to retrieve it themselves. 

“You fucking idiot!” Brienne shouted, pointing at Jaime. 

“Excuse me? It’s not unreasonable to think you can lean _lightly_ against a car without it rolling backward! You’re the idiot.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes. That car is probably too old to even have a parking brake!” 

Brienne groaned. “If you had never gotten out of the car you would have never stepped in cow shit and never had a reason to lean against the car!” 

He rolled his eyes. “Tarth is the only place in the world with this many fucking hills!” 

“Mountains and valleys are what make Tarth so beautiful!” 

“I thought it was the sapphire waters!” Jaime countered. 

“That too!” 

He stared at her a moment before his lips twitched into a small, amused grin. He sighed and said, “I guess we should start walking and get to a phone.” 

“We?” Brienne asked. “I need a break from you. I’ll go. You stay here and keep an eye on things. But don’t open the trunk.” 

Jaime glared. “I wasn’t going to.” 

“Yes, you were. It’s killing you that Sansa is trapped in there.” 

* 

Brienne returned to the scene and found Jaime sitting cross-legged on the grass. “I called my father,” she told him. “He’s going to phone our mechanic and beg him to work on a Saturday. It might be a while.” 

He nodded and pointed to the brown bag she was carrying. “What’s that?” 

“Stopped at a fruit stand.” She opened the bag and asked, “Apple, plum, or nectarine?” 

“Apple, please,” Jaime said. She tossed one toward him and he caught it between the palms of his hands. 

Brienne sat down on the grass, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles. She plucked a nectarine from the bag and bit into the fruit. Jaime watched as the juices trickled from the corners of her mouth down her chin, and he abruptly looked away when she glanced in his direction. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Margaery, my girlfriend, is allergic to most stone fruits.” 

She stared at him a moment. “That’s unfortunate.” 

Jaime nodded in agreement and shined the apple on his jeans. “She would like that I’m having fruit as a snack. She doesn’t think I eat enough healthy foods.” He took a hearty bite. 

“You look like you eat healthy,” she said, blushing as she thought about seeing Jaime in nothing but a towel, beads of water drying on his skin. 

“Somewhat. But Margaery, she’s a cardiologist, so in her eyes there is always room for improvement.” He felt the need to continue to discuss her, but after a while he could feel how annoyed Brienne was at the constant references to engagement and romance. He considered needling her about her own love life but opted for a different direction. “So, tell me about this developer trying to shut the inn down.” 

Brienne’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Petyr Baelish,” she sneered the name. “He wants to turn Tarth into a tourist trap. We get plenty of visitors and they like how quaint everything is. Before the storm damage I was planning a remodel. I was going to expand the dining area and the menu. Improve the rooms. If we didn’t have to fight to save Evenfall, we could still do that _and_ attract even better business.” 

He nodded, taking in her words. “I’m familiar with Baelish. He’s the definition of smarmy.” 

“He’s all but bulldozed us. He is so certain we’ll fail to collect the money.” 

“He’s probably going to turn it into a whorehouse.” 

Brienne shot him a look. 

“Sorry to be so crass but Baelish is shady.” Jaime paused, his wheels turning. He scooted closer to her, facing her, and said, “I bet the bank and the historical society wouldn’t want to be in cahoots with someone who is likely going to run some kind of illegal business out of the inn. When we get to civilization, I’ll make some calls.” 

“Thank you, but can you please stop insulting my home?” Brienne asked. 

He felt a pang of regret at how wounded she sounded. 

“We are already in civilization. You’ve been looking down at Tarth from the minute you walked into the inn. This is a great place with great people and-.” 

“I apologize,” he said sincerely. 

Brienne drew in a deep breath. She looked around a while before her eyes landed on Jaime again. “What kind of law do you practice?” 

“Corporate. For the most part. I work with... well, I work _for_ my father. He’s the Lannister in Lannister & Marbrand.” 

“Do you like working for your father?” 

He shrugged. “I’d wager you and I have vastly different experiences working for or with family.” 

“So that’s a no?” 

He laughed. “I fought against joining his firm for years. Rebelled against it, really. I did the kind of work he hated.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I was a public defender for a while. I did a lot of pro bono work. The only thing my father hates more than pro bono work is the time I spent trying to run a restaurant.” 

“Really? You ran a restaurant?” 

He nodded. “I tried to.” 

Brienne listened to Jaime recount his time as a restaurateur and some of his most successful cases as a public defender. She felt like a different person had switched places with the Jaime Lannister who barreled into the inn and mistook her for a man. The person talking to her was unpretentious and empathetic. At one point he was so passionate about the story he was telling that he had to stand, and when he sat back down it was beside her. 

The morning gave way to afternoon and Jaime leaned back, making a bed of the soft grass. Brienne remained seated until her eyes grew heavy. She tipped back and stretched out beside him, falling asleep under the warm sun.


	3. all around your island there's a barricade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More car trouble lands Jaime and Brienne in a B&B and a fake marriage for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are references to Jaime having previously had an unhealthy romance. I wanted to keep incest out of the story, so I'm being vague and not mentioning any names. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the kudos and nice comments! This story is fun to write and I'm glad people are enjoying it.

The sun began to lower in the sky, taking the temperate down several degrees. It was the slight chill that made Brienne burrow closer to Jaime on the grass. His body responded in kind – one arm curled around her waist and he hooked one leg around both of hers. When the blare of a car horn woke them both, they stared at one another, puzzled, before abruptly disentangling. 

Brienne rushed to the mechanic’s truck, thanking him profusely, while Jaime brushed blades of grass from his clothes. He was disoriented from having fallen into such a deep sleep in the middle of the day. He wondered if it was the fresh air and the soft bed of grass, or the warm, comfortable weight of her body, that made him sleep so soundly. 

* 

The amount of water that seeped into the car was minimal and they were back on the road before the nightfall completely swallowed the sun. Neither of them said much until Jaime reached for the dial on the radio to change the station and Brienne snapped, “Hey, I was listening to that.” 

“It was giving me a headache,” he told her. 

She scoffed and moved the dial back to where it had been. “My car, my music.” 

“I’m paying you good money. Shouldn’t I be able to change the radio station?” 

Brienne shook her head. “That wasn’t part of the deal.” 

Jaime muttered under his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

She increased the volume to spite him. From that moment on, if it wasn’t dead silent, they were arguing about something. Jaime wanted the windows down but she said it was too cold. Brienne thought they should stop at the next convenience store for coffee but he wanted to make up for the time they lost. She admonished him for putting his feet on the dashboard and he again insulted the condition of her car. 

“Maybe I should just wait for the bus on Monday,” Jaime said after she called him out for chewing gum too loudly. 

Brienne’s instinct was to stop the car and let him out, but she knew it would be impossible to save the inn without his payment. “It would break my father’s heart if we have to shut Evenfall down,” she told him. “I’ll tolerate you for his sake.” 

After several minutes of amiable silence, he remarked, “Your father seems like a good man.” 

“He is. The best.” She glanced over at her passenger and thought he looked rather sad. “What’s your father like?” 

Jaime took a deep breath. “My father... my father isn’t as tall as yours but he takes up more space. He has a... strong presence. And lofty expectations.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’m his oldest son and he always saw me taking over the law firm and the family home.” 

Brienne asked, “And you’re not going to?” 

“I maintained for years that I didn’t want to live in that house or start a family or be his replacement. But nothing else has worked out for me. He’ll make me a partner if I get married. I finally realized it makes the most sense for me to take the path he laid out for me.” 

“What kind of cases do you have at the firm?” 

Jaime spoke in a monotone as he described drawing up contracts and settling disputes between business partners. 

“You don’t sound as enthused as when you talked about your pro bono work,” she noted. 

He was quiet, considering her remark, and was drawn out of his lull when Brienne yawned loudly. Jaime asked if she wanted him to take the wheel for a while. She declined the offer and he calculated how much he would be delayed if they stopped to sleep for a few more hours. It would throw him terribly off schedule but he suggested, “We could pull over for a while.” 

“I thought you had a deadline.” 

“I do. But if we die because you fall asleep my deadline won’t matter.” 

Brienne pulled off to the side of the road. “You can drive if you feel awake enough,” she offered. 

He smiled, thanking her as he climbed out to switch places. 

* 

She had denied being all that tired, but Jaime drove for several hours while Brienne dozed in the seat beside him. He was enjoying the quiet and the beauty of the sunrise when he noticed a smell, like something was burning. He looked at the fuel and temperature gages and didn’t see anything alarming. There were no warning lights. “No, no, no,” he whispered when he saw smoke seeping out from under the hood. The car began to sputter and jolted to a sudden stop. 

Jaime turned the key in the ignition, but it wouldn’t restart. He willed Brienne not to wake up, hoping he could locate and fix the problem before she knew anything was wrong. But the movement of him exiting the car stirred her from sleep. She opened her eyes as Jaime lifted the hood, and the billowing smoke took her from groggy to wide awake. 

“Jaime,” she shouted, opening the door, “what in the seven hells did you do?” 

“Nothing!” He coughed, lifting an arm to shield his face from the smoke. 

“Nothing my ass,” she said, shoving him away. Brienne waited for the air to clear and leaned down to visually inspect the engine and other parts. Nothing was obviously wrong. She got down on the ground, looking underneath the car as best she could. 

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s an ancient car, Brienne. I don’t think anything you do is going to fix it!” 

She stood, ignoring him, and hovered over the open hood. 

He watched as she yanked her shirt out from under the waistband of her jeans and began loosening the buttons. He swallowed hard as she removed one arm from its sleeve and then the other, revealing long, muscular arms. Jaime was confused by her undressing until she wrapped the shirt around her hand, using it to keep from burning her skin as she began investigating for the source of the problem. He averted his gaze when he caught himself staring at her backside. “Any luck?” he asked after a while. 

Brienne turned around. The front of her white tank was soiled with grease. She wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead, but ended up with a smear of grease above her brow anyway. “Nothing I can do.” 

He was distracted by the realization that she wasn’t wearing a bra and that her skin looked smooth as marble. 

“We need to get to a phone,” she said. 

Jaime cleared his throat. “Right. Your mechanic is going to hate us.” 

“He’s not going to drive this far. We’ll have to find someone else. And it’s Sunday so that’s not likely to happen.” Brienne looked down the road. “There’s a B&B not far from here. We’ll have to stay there tonight.” 

“But I need to be in Storm’s End tomorrow.” 

She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t know-” 

“There has to be something we can do,” Jaime protested, rushing to the car and bending over the hood. 

“You can spend all day trying to fix it. I don’t care. I don’t have anywhere to be.” 

Jaime knew there was nothing he could do, and he could either waste time pretending he could or get to a phone. He reached up to close the hood. He looked at her said, “Maybe we can borrow a car? Get a rental?” 

She entertained his idea by saying, “Sure. Maybe.” 

“Is there any way we can leave here tomorrow and get me to Storm’s End before midnight?” 

Brienne said, “I don’t know, Jaime. It’s not likely.” 

He had wanted to surprise Margaery completely, but he decided he would call her as soon as they got to a phone. He couldn’t let their anniversary come and go without her knowing he was on his way. “Let’s go,” he said, walking to the trunk. He removed his suitcase and picked up Brienne’s bag, carrying it over his shoulder for her. “Where are we going?” he asked as they began walking away from the car. 

“Swann’s. It’s a bed and breakfast. My father knows the owners.” 

Jaime hoped the rooms were nicer than the one he had occupied at Evenfall Inn. 

They walked under the sun, breaking a sweat. Brienne offered to take her own bag several times but Jaime continued to carry it while pulling his own suitcase behind him. He observed the land around them – meadows full of wildflowers, snow-capped mountains in the distance. 

“Why is it so important you propose on Monday?” she asked as they walked down a slight incline. 

“It’s our anniversary.” 

Brienne shrugged. “So? The world won’t end if you are delayed a day or two.” 

“No, but it will be the end of-” 

“What?” she prodded. 

Jaime hesitated before saying, “Margaery is very likely to break up with me if I don’t propose on our anniversary.” 

“She said that?” 

“In so many words, yes.” 

“She gave you an ultimatum?” 

“I hate that word. It’s not like she drew up a contract. But, yes. She made it clear she doesn’t want to wait any longer.” 

Brienne made a noise of disapproval. 

“What?” Jaime asked. 

“It’s none of my business, but if she loves you why wouldn’t she wait? And if you love her why did she have to wait in the first place?” 

Jaime stopped walking. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s none of your business.” He marched on ahead of her and soon saw a large house at the end of a long, gravel driveway. 

The wooden sign posted in the yard announced the home as Swann’s Bed and Breakfast. It was a modest two-story with cream-colored siding and moss green shutters. The wrap-around porch looked inviting with cushioned benches and rocking chairs. As they got closer Jaime thought he could smell fresh baked cookies wafting out the open windows. 

They climbed the stairs to the porch and rang the bell. As they waited Jaime noticed the smear of grease above Brienne's brow. “You still have some...” He let go of his luggage and stepped closer to her. He wiped his thumb across her skin. The stain was stubborn and he gave up, dropping his arm to his side. But his eyes were locked with hers and he found that close-up, the shade of blue was even more mesmerizing. 

When the door opened, Caryn Swann found a man and woman gazing into one another’s eyes and grinned ear to ear. “Hello there,” she said. 

Brienne and Jaime looked to her. “Hi,” he said. “We’re sorry to intrude. Our car broke down and we need to call for help.” 

“And a place to stay for the night,” Brienne added. “I don’t know if you remember me, Mrs. Swann, but I’m Selwyn Tarth’s daughter, Brienne.” 

Caryn studied Brienne’s face before recognition registered in her eyes. “Of course! Brienne!” 

“Do you have an available room?” 

“Yes! You're in luck. I had to turn a man and woman down,” Caryn said. She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, “Because they weren’t married.” She leaned closer to them. “You two _are_ married, right?” 

Jaime and Brienne looked at one another, panicked. She said, “Uhhh,” and he finally answered by wrapping his arm tight around her waist and saying, “Yes, we are. Newlyweds, in fact.” 

Caryn smiled, giddy, and moved aside to welcome them into the house. While her back was turned as she described the room and the payment, Brienne looked at Jaime and mouthed, “What the fuck?” 

He made a face and shrugged. 

They followed Caryn up the stairs and to their room. It was a small space with a rather narrow bed. The shower was oddly part of the bedroom rather than in the adjoining bathroom. She said they could use the phone downstairs and added, “We’re having clams and cockles for dinner.” 

Brienne could tell by Jaime’s reaction that he wasn’t a fan, and the meal wasn’t particularly appealing to her. “Mrs. Swann, why don’t you let me cook. It’s the least I can do for showing up at the last minute.” 

“She’s a wonderful cook,” Jaime added. “Keeps everyone at Evenfall full and happy but begging for more.” 

Caryn considered the offer. 

“Please. You can relax for the evening. Jaime will do all the cleaning up like he does at home.” She gave him a wicked smile. 

The woman beamed. “Okay! It would be nice to turn the kitchen over to someone else.” 

They agreed on a time and Caryn left, closing the door behind her. The instant it sealed shut Brienne smacked Jaime’s arm and asked, “Why did you do that?” 

He rubbed his arm. “Say you’re a good cook?” 

“Say we’re married!” 

“If I hadn’t said that we would be sleeping in the car tonight. And she may not have let us even use the phone.” 

Brienne heaved a sigh. “You could have said we were siblings.” 

“Wouldn’t she know Selwyn Tarth doesn’t have a son?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “All I know is that you’re not sleeping in the bed with me.” 

* 

Jaime arrived in the kitchen to find Brienne standing at the table with a cutting board and carrots sliced into coins. It was the first time, other than their encounter in the hallway at Evenfall, that he’d seen her wearing something besides a button-down shirt. The pullover top she sported was fitted, and the long sleeves seemed to somehow elongate her frame even more. The cobalt blue color enhanced her eyes and when she caught him staring, she became self-conscious and touched her face, asking, “What? Did I not get all the grease?” 

“Huh? No. I was just thinking... you look nice.” 

She blushed, but the flattery only made her uncomfortable. She was certain Jaime was gearing up to mock her and was grateful when Caryn Swann entered the room. 

“Your wife is going to make roasted citrus chicken with sweet potatoes,” the woman boasted. 

Jaime smiled and said, “Oh, that’s one of my favorites.” He looked around and asked, “Can we use the phone?” 

“I already called every mechanic in the area,” Brienne told him. “No one answered.” 

“I told your wife no one was going to be around on a Sunday,” Caryn added. 

Jaime clenched his hands into fists. “Where is the phone? I need to call my g-” He caught himself before saying _girlfriend_. “Father.” 

“Around the corner,” Caryn said. 

He thanked her and crossed the room, realizing the nearby phone was attached to the wall. The cord was barely two feet long. There was no way Jaime could have the privacy he needed to talk to Margaery without revealing the true nature of his relationship, or lack thereof, with Brienne. “This is your only phone?” he wondered. 

Caryn nodded. “We only need the one. Is something wrong?” 

Jaime shook his head. “No. I just... I don’t think he’ll be home anyway.” 

* 

It bothered Jaime that he couldn’t discreetly contact Margaery. As Brienne peeled sweet potatoes and quartered oranges, he drank ale and brooded at the table. He imagined all the disastrous ways the next day could play out and knew he needed to speak with her before their anniversary came and went. He worried about not reaching the port in time to take the last ferry of the day. He feared Margaery would leave Storm’s End without him knowing, and he would have to take another day to get back to her in King’s Landing. He would have to sneak down to the phone in the middle of the night and hope she would wake and answer the call. It was all he could think about until the chicken was roasting and the smell distracted him. 

“That smells amazing,” he said, opening the oven door. 

Brienne grabbed his arm, pulling him away. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she whispered. “It’s one of your favorites, remember?” 

“Oh, right.” 

“Make yourself useful. Set the table.” 

Jaime bowed to her and said, “As you wish, my lady.” 

Brienne assigned him more jobs – selecting the wine, warming the rolls, stirring the vegetables on the stove – and soon the meal was complete. Mr. and Mrs. Swann took their seats at the table and the other guests at the B&B, a couple in their fifties, joined them. 

“This is delicious,” one of them remarked, and everyone agreed. They asked Brienne how she learned to cook and Jaime had to continuously remind himself not to sound surprised by everything she said. 

After the last piece of chicken was taken and the last of the wine was poured, Mrs. Swann asked, “How did the two of you meet?” 

There was a long pause before Brienne responded, “He came into the inn to wait out a storm. Dragged mud across the floor and insulted the place.” 

Jaime opened his mouth to launch a defense but she kept talking. 

“He was rude and entitled. Wanted me to cook him something off menu,” Brienne said. 

The others at the table gasped and Jaime rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “What she’s not telling you is that she ignored me, a customer, for so long that I started to think she didn’t work there.” 

Mr. Swann laughed. “So, it wasn’t love at first sight?” 

Brienne shook her head while Jaime replied, “Well...” He looked at her profile, at her crooked nose and plump lips. 

She felt the weight of his stare and squirmed in her seat. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Jaime asked. He put his arm around her shoulders. 

“I knew the two of you were madly in love the minute I opened the door,” Mrs. Swann said. 

Jaime unconsciously began to lightly rub his fingers up and down Brienne’s arm. She tensed, embarrassed by the public display and by how much she enjoyed the feeling. She couldn’t remember Renly ever touching her in such a way – sweetly, reverently – and if he did, she certainly never felt such a pleasant tickle in her stomach or heat spiking up and down her spine. 

“I can tell you are newlyweds,” Mr. Swann said. He got a glint in his eye and picked up his fork, tapping it against his glass. Soon the others at the table were doing the same and chanting, “Kiss, kiss!” 

Brienne and Jaime looked at one another. She was on the verge of revealing the truth to extricate herself from the situation and spare Jaime from having to kiss her, but he moved one hand to gently cup her chin. His thumb swept across the tender skin below her mouth and he leaned forward. She emitted a soft gasp at the light pressure of his lips and opened her mouth, responding as the kiss deepened. He twisted in his seat to get closer to her and she did the same. The embrace was bordering on indecent when Mrs. Swann said, “Oh, my,” and the two of them broke apart. The touch lingered – his hand cupped at the back of her neck, hers grasping his hips – long after their lips parted. 

* 

He didn’t think about Margaery once during dinner. Not even after he shared a rather passionate kiss with Brienne and not as they walked, hand in hand, from the kitchen to the stairs as Mrs. Swann watched. 

In the bedroom, Brienne looked at the bed as her teeth worried at her bottom lip. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Jaime offered, just as she remarked, “I guess there’s enough room for both of us.” 

They smiled shyly and he excused himself to change in the bathroom. When he emerged a few minutes later, the blankets were turned down and she had placed one pillow on each side of the narrow mattress. Jaime tossed his jeans onto the foot of the bed and unbeknownst to him, something fell out of the pocket. 

Brienne said, “You lost something,” and his eyes widened with panic as he caught sight of the photo he’d found of her and Renly at Evenfall. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was caught in his throat and she bent to pick it up. He watched her smooth out the wrinkles in the picture and recognize it as her own. “W-why do you have this?” she asked. 

Jaime stared at her, open-mouthed. “I found it. In the kitchen.” 

She shook her head. “You mean in the trash? You were snooping?” 

“No! I didn’t go looking through your things, Brienne. It was on the floor.” 

“But why did you _take_ it?” 

Jaime raked his fingers through his hair. He folded his arms across his chest, fidgeting under the weight of her confused, angry stare. “I know Renly. My sister married his brother.” 

She sat on the edge of the bed. Renly had mentioned a vile ex sister-in-law once or twice. Brienne had never met his family, and after he ended their engagement, she was embarrassed to have not seen that as a sign he wasn’t serious about their future together. 

“I heard your father coming into the room and for some stupid reason I panicked and put it in my pocket instead of leaving it where I found it,” Jaime explained. 

She was silent for a beat before asking, “Did you know he was gay? Before he ran off?” 

His chest tightened. He could see the pain and discomfort it caused Brienne to think about Renly – her eyes were glossy with tears. He chose his words carefully and said, “I suspected,” even though the truth was Jaime and most everyone else wondered how much longer it was going to take the young man to admit the truth even to himself. 

“Had you heard about me?” 

Jaime winced. “Not by name. I heard he was engaged and...” He paused to choose his words carefully. “...and it was called off.” 

Brienne wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She sniffled and said, “Bet you got a good laugh out of it like everyone else. Wondered what kind of woman could be that stupid. And now you know.” 

He shook his head, but Jaime felt a stab of shame at the reality of his reaction. He _had_ speculated on how desperate the woman must have been. He had made jokes at her expense. “I don’t think you’re stupid.” He sat down beside her. He thought about his past and said, “We can’t help who we love.” 

She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth. She crumpled the photograph and stood up, tossing it in the nearest trash can. Brienne picked up one of the pillows from the bed and tossed it onto the floor, and Jaime understood it was for him. 

* 

The sun washed the room in soft, buttery light as Jaime woke from a fitful sleep. He heard the shower running and peeled himself up from the floor. There was only a curtain separating the shower from the rest of the bedroom. He could see Brienne’s silhouette through the frosted vinyl – the slope of her small breasts, the curve of her ass, and long, shapely legs. She moved in a way that was vastly different from her usual stiff posture; her arms were loose, her back arched. She was lithe and graceful instead of sturdy and rigid. 

Jaime shifted where he sat. He felt shameful for watching her, and to tamper his growing arousal he shut his eyes and thought about Margaery. He recognized the absurdity of thinking about his future wife to quell his erection, but before he could analyze it too much, the water shut off. He grabbed the pillow behind him and held it over his lap as Brienne reached one hand out from under the curtain to pluck a robe from the hook on the wall. 

She put the robe on, tied the sash around her waist, and pulled the curtain open. “Oh,” she said at the sight of Jaime sitting upright on the floor. “Did I wake you?” 

“No. It’s fine,” he squeaked. 

She stepped out of the shower and rubbed a towel through her hair. “I was thinking...” 

Jaime swallowed hard. She smelled clean and when she sat on the edge of the bed facing him, the slit in the robe gave him a generous view of her legs. He licked his lips and clenched his hands into fists, wondering about the texture of her skin. 

“I still think it’s weird you took the picture. And that you never mentioned your connection to him, but I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.” 

He shrugged. “No, it’s fine. You’re right. It _is_ weird. I guess... I didn’t know how to talk about it.” 

“I don’t either,” she admitted. 

“I know what it’s like to be left for someone else. I know how shitty it feels. You can’t trust anyone. You question everything. I can’t believe I’m going to utter this sentence, but there’s life after heartbreak.” 

Brienne looked at him with a hint of a smile. It was gone just as quickly as she said, “I think I’m more upset that I felt like something was wrong and ignored it. It felt like he was my only chance at love and I was willing to pretend everything was fine. I didn’t know the problem was that he likes men, but I knew...” 

He was finally okay to stand from the floor. Jaime tossed the pillow aside and got up to sit beside her. “You knew what, Brienne?” 

“This regular at the bar, Davos, his house burned down. One day he was telling the story and said when he heard the alarm going off, it felt like he had sixty seconds to grab what was most important to him. Davos is a widower. He took his wedding album and a blanket his wife knitted.” Brienne glanced at Jaime, surprised by how intently he was listening. “I told him as long as Renly got out with me, I’d have everything I need. I asked Renly that night, ‘If you had sixty seconds to grab what was most important to you before everything burned down, what would you take?’ He told me he’d take a box of letters from his best friend. I knew then I wasn’t as important to him as I should be. As I wanted to be.” 

Jaime had to look away from her – his heart thrummed in his chest, his palms were clammy, and heat prickled the back of his neck. He was grateful she didn’t ask what he would take. 

“Well, anyway,” Brienne said, “I’m kind of glad you brought the picture. It reminded me that I need to let go of my anger and resentment and that I’m better off without him. I’m lucky, really. It wouldn’t have been a happy life.” She laughed softly at how much she had revealed. “I’ll shut up now. I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get out of here.” 

“Hmm?” 

“You probably want to go?” 

“Uh, right. Yeah.” 

“I’ll call the mechanic while you get dressed,” she said. “If you need to call Margaery, I can distract the Swanns long enough for you to use the phone.” 

Jaime stared at her for a long while before he was able to speak. “Thank you. Sounds good.” 

* 

Jaime had an opportunity to use the phone in private, but he spent the time ruminating on everything Brienne had said the night before and that morning. He left Swann’s having never placed a call to Margaery. If he had, and she’d answered, Jaime didn’t think he would have been able to speak. 

“Everything okay?” Brienne asked from the driver’s seat of her car. 

He smiled and nodded and didn’t say much else during the drive to the ferry dock. 

The area looked rather empty as they arrived. Brienne noticed a lack of urgency as Jaime removed his suitcase from the trunk and approached the ticket agent. She caught up to him in time to hear the man behind the counter say, “Bad storm to the west of us. The boat had to turn around and dock at Storm’s End. Probably won’t be able to come back until the morning.” 

She braced for an angry tantrum from Jaime, but he simply said, “I see. I’ll come back then.” 

He turned around and Brienne followed him back up the slight hill toward the car. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Jaime stopped to crane his neck, looking at her. “Why? You can’t control the weather.” 

“No, but... I’m sure you’re...” 

“No sense getting upset,” he told her. 

Brienne shifted her weight from one foot to the other. There was no reason for her to stay with him in town only to leave in the morning when he boarded the ferry. She opened her mouth to speak at the same time he began saying something to her. They both stopped and Jaime signaled for her to go on. “I suppose you don’t need me beyond this point,” she said. 

He wondered if the conflict he felt in his chest – the pressure on his lungs, the lump in his throat – registered on his face. “Right. Well, I was thinking... when I do get to Storm’s End I'm going to need a ride to where Margaery is staying. If you are okay taking the car on the ferry, I could pay you extra. I’d pay for your trip back here, too.” Jaime thought he sounded desperate and added, “I’d rather pay you and help the inn than a random cab driver.” 

Brienne cast a glance back at the ferry slip and the water. “I should check in with my father first.” 

“Of course. I should call Margaery.” 

She pointed to a row of shops and restaurants behind them and said, “I’m sure we can find a phone.” 

Jaime looked toward the far end of the cobblestone road they stood on. He squinted to read the bright blue letters of a sign hanging from the awning of what looked like a small hotel – Sapphire Lodge. “You go on,” he said. “I’ll see about a room. _Rooms_ if you stay. 

They agreed to meet in the same spot and Jaime walked to the lodge. He was surprised by the crowd inside and asked the young woman at the desk if he could get two rooms for the night. 

“We’re booked solid. Wedding party,” she explained. “The wedding was yesterday but everyone is stranded.” 

“I’m guessing you’re probably the only lodging in town?” 

The woman nodded. 

A man holding a tall glass of ale approached the desk. “You need a room?” he asked Jaime. 

“I do.” 

“We’re all family,” the man said, gesturing to the people milling about the lobby. “I’m sure we can combine a couple rooms and free one up for you.” 

Jaime smiled broadly. “I don’t want to be an imposition.” 

“No imposition,” the man said, and along with the woman behind the desk they struck up an agreement and shook hands. Jaime considered asking if they could possibly free up a second room, but he didn’t want test the man’s kindness by being greedy. 

He bounded out of the Sapphire Lodge, eager to tell Brienne there were good people left in the world. The first thing he noticed was that she hadn’t made it back to their meeting place. The second thing he noticed was that her car was gone. He stood in the middle of the street, deflated and alone. After a moment he walked toward the dock, stopping to look out at the water. 

Clouds were rolling in quickly from the west. Jaime watched them swallow the blue of the sky and thought of Brienne’s eyes and how he would be reminded of them every time he looked up or at the sea. It made sense for her to leave, but it pained him that she left without a goodbye. He would have to mail her the money he owed, and that felt too impersonal. 

Jaime wondered if Brienne took off without a word because she was feeling the same connection to him that he was feeling to her. Had she been playing the kiss over and over? Had she been doubting everything she’d first thought about him? 

“Hey! I got coffee.” 

Jaime heard her voice calling from behind. He closed his eyes and exhaled a pent-up breath. The relief last only a moment, and then he felt guilty for being so glad Brienne had not left. “I wondered where you ran off to,” he said, turning around. 

She handed him one of two paper cups. “I moved the car. Did they have rooms available?” 

Jaime tried to sound frustrated when he told her, “They only had one.”


	4. part of me you carry, part of me is gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jaime and Brienne get to know one another better, he begins to doubt the path he's on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! This has been a fun story to write. I have one final chapter planned and hope to have it published in the next few days.

The small town was quiet and quaint. The streets were virtually empty as the rain began to fall in heavy sheets. Jaime and Brienne sought shelter on the sidewalks, under the awning of the storefronts. They walked, sipping their coffee, as he explained about the stranded wedding party and their generosity. 

He stopped outside the window of a jewelry store. The tiered display showcased a variety of rings – diamond, colorful stones, playful charms. His eye landed on a silver band with one small diamond and he leaned forward to inspect it through the glass. 

“Do you need to go in?” Brienne asked. She read the sign on the door and said, “They close early.” 

He stood straight and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. I don’t think I should show up empty-handed.” 

“You don’t have a ring?” 

Jaime turned away from the display to face her, shaking his head. “I can’t get the ring I want to propose with right now, so I was going to buy something as a placeholder. Something Margaery could still wear after she has the real ring.” 

“What’s the real one?” 

“My mother’s ring. It’s beautiful. Gold band. A diamond and two rubies. Red was always her color – hers and my father’s. My younger brother basically stole it and proposed to a horrible woman with it.” 

Brienne leaned against the brick exterior of the building. “You’ll be able to get it back from him?” 

“I sure hope so. My mother was an amazing woman and that ring belongs with someone as wonderful as her. I just hope Tyrion’s fiancée hasn’t run off with it already.” 

“Margaery is must be pretty special,” Brienne remarked. 

Jaime took a long pause before he answered, “Y-yes. She is.” 

* 

The room was as small as the one at Swann’s, but the bed was bigger. Jaime sat on one side and reached for the telephone on the nearby table. He dialed and listened to the ringing, hanging up when an answering machine picked up. 

Brienne watched from a chair in the corner of the room as Jaime dialed a different number. She heard him ask, “Is Margaery there?” The answer must have been no and he appeared to dial the first number again. He left a message and she thought he sounded irritated as he told his fiancée, “I need to speak with you. I’m not going to let you down but there have been... roadblocks.” He gave her the number to the room at the lodge. 

Jaime hung the phone up and looked across the room. “Should we get something to eat?” 

She started to answer but was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

He stood and looked out into the hallway through the small circle of glass on the door. Their visitor was the man who had given up the room for them, and Jaime opened the door to greet him with a smile. The man explained that the tent from yesterday’s wedding ceremony was still standing and there was plenty of food and cake leftover. “We’re having a second reception,” he said, inviting Jaime and Brienne to join them. 

“That sounds fun,” Jaime told him. “Maybe we’ll see you in a bit.” 

* 

Jaime had one clean shirt left – a wrinkled red polo. He sat down at the small writing desk, waiting for Brienne to change clothes, and knew Margaery would be aghast at what remained of his wardrobe. 

She was the type of woman who traveled with a minimum of five suitcases for a two-night trip. Jaime was certain he spent fifty percent of their relationship waiting for her to select the perfect outfit, put makeup on, and style her hair. Margaery always looked glamorous and well-suited for the occasion – sexy if it was a cocktail party, elegant for a charity banquet. If she had been invited to a wedding reception with only a few days' worth of casual clothes in her possession, she would insist on shopping for an appropriate dress and shoes. 

The door squeaked open and Jaime took in the sight of Brienne wearing the same pair of jeans and button-down shirt with a few tweaks; she had tucked it under the waistband of her jeans, removed the tank top from underneath, and left one more button undone than she usually did. The plaid pattern was made of soft hues – blue, gray, white, and a trace of pink – and made the color of her eyes pop. 

“Ready?” he asked, standing from his seat. Brienne nodded and Jaime offered his arm. 

She hesitated before hooking her arm around his, and when she did, her breath snagged in her throat. His skin was warm and the sleeves of his shirt clung tightly around his impressive biceps. Jaime was the most handsome man she had ever seen, let alone arrived to a party with linked arm in arm. She had learned long ago not to care what people thought of her appearance and choice of clothes, but standing beside Jaime Lannister made Brienne extremely aware of her every flaw. 

They rode the elevator, walked across the lobby, and exited the back door to the site of the reception. A narrow stone pathway ran the length of the grass all the way to the cliff’s edge. On one side, the grass was crowded with tents. On the other, the weather kept people from sitting on the benches placed around small gardens of flowers and plants, and there was no band in the gazebo – music played from a set of speakers inside one of the tents. 

Brienne leaned toward Jaime and whispered, “Maybe we shouldn’t intr-” 

The man who had invited them interrupted when he spotted them and darted out from one of the tents, holding a large umbrella over his head. "You made it!” he exclaimed, straining to hold the umbrella above the pair as he led them closer to the party. 

They were introduced to the newlyweds, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. They were given flutes of champagne, shown to the tables of food, and told to sit anywhere they liked. 

Brienne let go of her insecurities as she took in the people around them. Some seemed to be wearing their formal clothes from the day before, others were in track pants and ill-fitting T-shirts. There were children dancing in the rain and falling into puddles of mud. For a brief time, Brienne could pretend she belonged there with Jaime. But as she watched him eat a slice of cake, she knew he was probably seeing the night through the eyes of a man about to propose to his longtime girlfriend – imagining himself and Margaery on the dance floor and feeding cake to one another. 

Someone announced the rain had stopped and the tents immediately emptied. Jaime looked at Brienne and asked, “Should we get some fresh air?” 

“Sure,” she said, and they both stood from their chairs. 

A few feet outside the tent, Jaime stopped and ran back in. He grabbed a newly opened bottle of champagne from one of the tables and caught back up to Brienne. 

They walked the grounds, passing the bottle back and forth. Jaime stopped to gaze out at the sand and the sea below. “Tarth really is beautiful,” he remarked. He turned his gaze to Brienne’s profile. “Somehow I didn’t see it before.” 

“Come this way,” she said, turning and leading him along the cliff’s edge toward a huddle of trees. 

They stopped walking beneath a veil of thin branches and bright green leaves. From there, Brienne pointed out a cove and they sat on a damp, stone bench. They were far enough from the reception that they could only faintly hear the music. 

“Let’s play a game,” Jaime said. 

She looked at him sideways. 

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” 

“What game?” Brienne asked. 

He was quiet a moment. “Never have I ever?” 

She was familiar with the game. Under normal circumstances, Brienne would have declined to participate. But she’d had two glasses of champagne before they took off with a full bottle, and her usual rigidity was clouded by the expensive alcohol. “Okay,” she answered. “You start.” 

Jaime was giddy, rearranging himself on the bench to face her. He looked at her a long while, vacillating between a grin and serious consideration, both of which made her squirm. His eyes widened and he said, “Never have I ever swam naked in The Narrow Sea.” 

Brienne gave away her response when her cheeks brightened. She reached for the bottle and took a drink from it. 

“I need to hear this story,” he said. 

“Maybe later. It’s your turn.” Brienne mulled over the task at hand before saying, “Never have I ever been arrested.” She bit her lip, waiting. 

Jaime smiled. “You’ll have to take a drink, Tarth. My record is clean.” 

She sighed and took a sip. 

They continued the game, asking mostly innocent questions. Brienne learned that Jaime hated The North and hadn’t seen or spoken to his sister in seven years. Jaime learned Brienne wanted more time for travel and they shared a talent for sword fighting. 

“Never have I ever... hated my current job,” Brienne said. 

Jaime had been laughing over the previous play and went silent. He took a deep breath, staring at the champagne bottle in her hands. “Hand it over,” he said, reaching toward her. He took the offered bottle and tilted his head back, taking a long drink as he admitted a strong dislike for corporate law. 

The next few turns were harmless – Brienne had to drink because she cheated on a spelling taste in the seventh grade and Jaime took another pull from the bottle because he was afraid of spiders. At some point he had moved closer and she had shifted, folding one leg in front of her. It was pressed against him and she burned hot where their bodies touched. 

It was his turn, and the tone shifted to a darker, more intimate place as his eyes studied her. He settled on his next statement, deciding where he wanted the conversation to go. What he wanted to know about Brienne Tarth. 

Jaime licked his bottom lip and said, “Never have I ever slept with a stranger.” 

Brienne paled. She remained still, ignoring the way he rested the bottle against her knee. He was waiting for him to take it from her. 

“I thought I was the only adult in Westeros who didn’t have one-night stands.” Jaime smiled and drew the bottle back, propping it against his inner thigh. “Your turn.” 

She wanted to steer the conversation away from sex and said, “Never have I ever been to the Iron Islands.” 

Jaime clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, exaggerating his annoyance at the tame subject matter. He took a drink then quickly told her, “Never have I ever had sex on the beaches of Tarth.” 

Brienne held her breath. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with her proximity to Jaime. She adjusted her legs, drawing her knees up to her chest. He was still waiting, thinking she would take a drink, and she cleared her throat to fill the silence. 

“Never?” he prodded. “Even though you swam naked in the ocean?” 

She didn’t want to admit she’d been alone at night and curious about swimming with no barrier between her and the sea. “Never.” 

He stared at her. “Have you been with a man since Renly?” 

“That’s not... you’re not playing the game right.” 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Never have I ever slept with a man after Renly moved to Dorne.” 

She sighed and pushed at the bottle when he held it toward her. 

He narrowed his eyes, thinking and trying to decode the woman sitting in front of him. “Can I ask a personal question?” 

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” Brienne retorted. 

He conceded her point with a nod. Jaime set the bottle aside, noting it was almost empty. “Did sex with Renly ever make you suspect he was gay?" He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth. “I’m sorry. That was-” 

“We never had sex,” Brienne told him quietly, her eyes avoiding his. 

Jaime’s eyes widened. He processed the information, soon asking, “Didn’t you think _that_ was strange?” 

She shrugged then covered her face with her hands, groaning at the awkwardness. After a moment she braced one hand on his leg for leverage and stood, wobbling before she found her footing. Wordlessly, Brienne turned and began to walk away. 

Jaime got to his feet, swaying. He took a deep breath and the dizziness subsided. “Brienne, wait,” he called out, chasing after her. “I’m sorry.” She was weaving around trees, and he was getting dizzy again following her jagged movements. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.” She made a sudden turn, heading in the direction of the lodge. He caught up and managed to get ahead of her. 

She stopped short of colliding with him. Brienne stood across from him and folded her arms. They were not far from the reception; the music was louder and they grabbed the attention of a few people milling about the lawn. 

“Don’t be mad at me,” he said, lifting a hand to gently touch her arm. 

Brienne briefly closed her eyes. “I’m not,” she said, finally looking at Jaime. She blamed the champagne – not his kind eyes or sharp cheekbones or how he smelled warm and woodsy or the way the light pressure of his hand made her stomach flutter – for her sudden desire to be honest. “I never slept with Renly. I never slept with anyone,” she whispered, and caught the slight rise of his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh,” Jaime said. “I.. Uh... that’s...” 

Someone from the wedding party rushed toward them, one hand grabbing Jaime’s arm and the other latching onto Brienne’s. “Come on, dance with us,” the young woman said, and the two of them didn’t fight the way she pulled them toward the crowd. They were swept into a choreographed dance – something of a peppy waltz where everyone switched partners every few beats. 

After being spun by three different men, Brienne turned and found herself inches away from Jaime. The fast music came to a stop and was replaced by a slow, dreamy melody she recognized. He offered a small smile and asked, “Will you dance with me?” 

Brienne nodded. Her stomach fluttered when his hands grasped her hips, lightly at first and then with a pleasing pressure. She slowly lifted her arms, settling her hands over his shoulders. 

_Stars shining bright above you  
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"  
Birds singing in the sycamore tree  
Dream a little dream of me_

Jaime moved his hands, folding them together at the small of her back. The movement drew her closer to him, leaving no space between their bodies. 

She tightened her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

_Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me  
While I'm alone and blue as can be  
Dream a little dream of me_

He tilted his head and her hair tickled his nose. She smelled of Tarth – sea salt and wildflowers and rain showers. 

Brienne felt his breath warm on her scalp. She tilted back and their eyes locked. 

_Stars fading but I linger on, dear  
Still craving your kiss  
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear  
Just saying this_

Jaime smiled. He leaned his forehead against hers. Their dance slowed to barely a sway, but their arms remained locked tight around one another. He moved his head slightly and was able to press his lips to the corner of her mouth. 

It could have ended there, but Brienne – emboldened by the champagne and the intimacy of truth and trust – shifted enough that their lips met. She opened her mouth against his and moaned softly at the warm slide of his tongue. She moved her hands to frame his face while one of his wandered down and clutched the curve of her ass. 

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you  
But in your dreams whatever they be  
Dream a little dream of me_

The song faded, changing to something louder and faster paced, and they slowly broke apart. His hands lingered at her hips and he said, “Let’s go inside.” 

Brienne nodded her agreement and they walked hand in hand toward the lodge, increasing the pace to a steady jog as they came to the elevator. The doors sealed shut and they pounced on one another, Jaime’s back against the wall as they kissed. When the elevator slowed and the doors opened onto their floor, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the hallway. He pressed her against the door as he found the key and fumbled to fit it into the lock. 

The door opened and they stumbled in, barely closing it before their bodies collapsed onto the bed. The phone rang and they pulled apart, looking at it with alarm. “Shit,” Jaime cursed, and Brienne rolled away from him to sit on the foot of the bed. 

He dropped the receiver in his haste to crawl across the bed and answer. “Hello?” he asked, breathless. 

On the other end of the line, Margaery said, “Hi, babe. Did you go for a run?” 

Jaime caught his breath. “Huh? Uh, yeah.” He winced at the lie. He mumbled something about phone tag as he got distracted by Brienne crossing the room and disappearing into the bathroom. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to get here tomorrow?” Margaery asked. 

“That’s the plan,” he said. 

She told him she’d be at a hotel the next day, attending a conference. She sounded increasingly distracted and eventually told Jaime, “I have to go, okay?” 

“Okay. I’ll see you tom-” The line went dead. Jaime hung the phone up and stared at the bathroom door. 

Brienne walked out, looking stricken. 

Jaime stood. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the right words. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “We both drank too much.” Brienne looked at the clock on the wall. “We should probably... we have to be up early.” 

He nodded. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” she said. 

“No, I can,” Jaime offered. 

She dragged a blanket off the bed and folded it on the carpet. “It’s fine,” Brienne told him, tossing a pillow down. She was clearly in a hurry to sleep, or pretend to sleep. She was in a hurry to stop talking to him. 

* 

Jaime was up, showered, and dressed before sunrise. He told Brienne he would wait downstairs and when she came down thirty minutes later, she found him standing on the sidewalk. 

“The ferry is delayed,” he told her. “We have a couple hours.” 

Brienne said, “Maybe I should go back to-” 

“Want to get breakfast?” Jaime asked, speaking over her. He paused, smiled. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“Same thing,” she lied. “Let’s get breakfast.” 

He suggested a bar near the dock that advertised a breakfast buffet on a sign posted outside the door. They walked side by side, Jaime pulling his suitcase and Brienne carrying her bag. 

The crowd in the bar was minimal. Aside from an older couple at a table, the patrons were men in their twenties and thirties. They sat at a corner table, tucking their bags against the wall. Brienne blanched when a server mentioned a mimosa menu and Jaime quickly said, “We’ll just have coffee and water.” 

The only words they exchanged were in regards to the food or to ask for a napkin or to pass the salt. They ate in silence and snapped at the server every time she stopped at the table. Someone paid for three songs on the jukebox, and when the third began to play – the song they danced to the night before – Jaime knocked his coffee mug off the table and Brienne’s fork clanked loudly on her plate. 

They drew attention from the other patrons. One table of young men stared and whispered, and Brienne was uncomfortable under their scrutiny. “Hey, I know you,” one of the men shouted to her. He stood and crossed to her. “Brienne the beauty,” he said, glancing back at his friends as they chuckled. 

She kept her eyes down and said nothing. 

The man looked at Jaime and asked him, “Are you the new one?” 

“Excuse me?” Jaime glared. He stood and Brienne rolled her eyes. She pushed her seat back and got to her feet. “Jaime,” she said, a warning. 

The two of them towered over the young man, but he persisted. “Her new gay boyfriend,” he clarified. 

“It’s none of your business who I am,” Jaime said. The shards of the broken mug crunched under his feet as he took a step closer to the stranger. 

The man glanced back at his friends, laughing. He looked at Jaime. “We figure you either have to be in the closet or a damn good actor to pretend you want to fuck Brienne the Beauty for the rest of your life.” He barely finished his sentence before Jaime launched a punch that knocked him off his feet. 

The man’s friends stood to come to his defense, but when Brienne walked toward them, they all scrambled to sit down again. 

“Out,” the bartender said, walking toward the messy scene. “All of you, out!” 

Jaime tossed money on the table and picked up both of their bags. He followed behind Brienne and when she felt they were a safe distance away from the bar, she spun on her heels and said, “You didn’t have to do that. I can take care of myself.” 

“I know. But...” 

“But what?” 

He was spared having to answer by the blare of the ferry’s horn. Their eyes widened and they cursed and took off running toward the dock. 

“Wait!” Jaime screamed as they got closer. He reached the slip, pleading with the captain to wait for Brienne to drive the car onto the lowest level. 

She made it in time and met Jaime on the top. They collapsed onto the nearest seats and Jaime flexed his fingers, examining his bruised knuckles. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Pretty bad, actually,” he admitted with a hiss of breath between his teeth. 

She reached over and gently pulled his hand onto her lap. She applied light pressure to his knuckles and said, “I don’t think you broke anything. Other than that asshole’s teeth.” 

He laughed. “Then it was worth it.” 

* 

For the first time since he’d switched his flight from King’s Landing to Storm’s End, Jaime was not in a hurry to reach his destination; Brienne fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and the air was cool and clean and the water was gentle. 

As time passed, he watched Tarth grow smaller and smaller. The blue of the sea became less and less spectacular until it was ordinary. The air seemed harder to breathe and the water became choppy. 

Jaime closed his eyes, inhaling the lingering scent he’d always associate with Tarth and Brienne. He thought about the revelation she was a virgin and what the man in the bar had mockingly called her – Brienne the Beauty. He felt terrible for the way he’d first perceived her, and he wished he could make her understand the way he saw her now. How in so few days she had made a lasting imprint on him. How the way other men had treated her was unbecoming. 

He’d had to admit he didn’t much like his job in corporate law, and ever since Jaime had quietly been questioning everything he thought to be true. Did he want to be a partner at his father’s law firm? Was Margaery the right woman to start a family with? He replayed every argument they’d ever had and came to the conclusion she could be rather selfish and haughty. 

Tilting his head back, Jaime didn’t notice Brienne open her eyes. She quickly shut them, pretending to still be asleep. The feel of him beneath her, the thrum of his heartbeat, was thrilling and calming all at once. She knew that closeness would be gone in a matter of hours and wanted to hold onto it as long as she could. 

Jaime Lannister was not the kind of man who would ever be with her, yet she felt such a connection to him that some part of her believed it was possible. He was the only man, other than Renly, who didn’t laugh or run off when she admitted her lack of sexual experience. For Renly it had been a relief, and for Jaime it seemed to be only a fact. It didn’t make her strange or crazy or needy. 

Brienne opened her eyes and slowly peeled away from his side. “Sorry for using you as a pillow,” she said. 

“Any time,” he replied with a smile. 

She shifted away from him slightly. 

“I mean it,” he said. 

“What?” 

Jaime scooted closer to her. He reached for her hand where it rested on her lap. “I’m having second thoughts,” he confessed. 

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and stood up. “No, you’re not,” Brienne said, walking to the edge of the ferry. Despite her musings on how she felt about him, and his unexpected reaction to her, she couldn’t let him go on. 

“Excuse me?” He stood up and followed her. “I think I know best how I’m feeling.” 

She looked out at the water. 

“It’s not just Margaery,” he told her. “You reminded me how happy I was when I could take whatever case I wanted. When I could help people. I don’t know if giving that up is worth being a partner in my father’s firm. It doesn’t make me feel good or proud or... it feels awful, actually, sometimes.” 

She continued to look away, not reacting to anything he said. 

Jaime moved to her other side and she looked away. He folded his hand over her arm, squeezing. “Brienne. Please. Look at me.” 

She rotated her hips enough to face him. 

“I know I’m not the only one who feels something between us.” 

Brienne gave a slight shake of her head but said, “It’s not real, Jaime. We were forced to spend a lot of time confined and... and we drank too much. You’re just using me.” 

“What? Is that what you really think?” 

She sighed. She shrugged. Shook her head. Groaned. “I meant... you’re about to take a big step. Of course, you’re going to start second guessing yourself. It’s not _me_. You’d be feeling this way no matter who-” 

“That’s not true!” he insisted. 

Brienne gripped the lapels of his jacket. “It doesn’t matter either way,” she said softly. She almost had to look away in order to continue lying. “After what happened with Renly... I want to focus on the inn. I want to take some more culinary classes. I don’t want to be in a relationship. Not yet. When I do, I want it to be with someone who truly loves me. Without a doubt. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to say I’m all he’d need to have if everything else around him was burning.” 

Jaime’s lips parted, but he couldn’t speak. 

“We’re from different worlds, Jaime. You’re meant to be with a woman like Margaery. You’re meant to inherit an estate and a law firm and I’m meant to run the inn. This,” she said, pressing her palms flat to his chest, “was just a product of the situation.” 

He covered her hands with his own. “Do you really believe that?” he asked, plaintive. 

She slipped her hands out from under his and took a step back. The ferry was nearing land and she didn’t have to pretend much longer that she didn’t want him to drop everything and go back to Tarth with her. “Yes,” Brienne lied. 

Jaime, wounded, sat down on the nearest bench. “I know you came all this way but you don’t have to drive me to the hotel if you don’t want to.” 

“We made a deal. I promised to drive you all the way and I intend to keep that promise.” 

* 

It was dark when Brienne drove the car off the ferry onto the road that ran alongside the slip. She was quiet and Jaime pretended to busy himself with a map he had found on the boat. In reality he was rehearsing what he would say to Margaery, only this time it wasn’t how he would propose and how he expected her to react. Even though Brienne had made it clear they had no future, he had too many doubts to start a life with Margaery. 

“I think this is it,” Brienne said, slowing to a stop. 

Jaime looked at the Shipwrecker Bay Hotel, a vastly different building than any of the lodging on Tarth. It was nearly a skyscraper and valets were posted by the door. He could sense Brienne was going to drop him off and preempted it by saying, “I’m going to need an ATM to pay you. Come inside with me?” 

She hesitated but parked the car, bypassing the valets. She retrieved his suitcase from the trunk like a real cab driver would do. “Your luggage, sir,” Brienne said. 

He scoffed at the formality and led her to the entrance. 

The doors parted and Brienne felt underdressed as they walked through the lobby. She waited while Jaime walked to the ATM. She watched women in skirts and men in suits filter in and out. Everyone in the hotel traveled with a Sansa Stark – a whole set of them. 

“Jaime!” 

Both he and Brienne turned at the sound of his name. “Margaery, hi,” he said, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. 

Margaery’s heels clacked against the marble floor as she approached him. She gave him a rather stiff embrace and kissed his cheek. “You made it. Sort of,” she said with a laugh. 

He smiled. “I did.” 

She sensed someone watching and turned, narrowing her eyes at Brienne. She looked at Jaime and whispered, too loudly, “Why is that... _woman_ staring at us?” 

“Margaery, this is Brienne Tarth,” Jaime said. “She’s the one who drove me across the island and got me here.” 

“How much do you owe her?” 

Jaime tensed. “I... it’s... I was going to use the ATM.” 

“I’ll take care of it,” Margaery said. “Will you excuse us, Ms. Tarth? I’ll be right back with your money.” She grabbed Jaime’s hand and pulled him with her across the lobby. 

Brienne watched as Margaery framed Jaime’s face with her hands. From where she stood, it looked like a romantic moment. 

“Jaime,” Margaery whispered, “do you see that man in the green tie? By the desk?” 

He looked over her shoulder and nodded. 

“He’s the chief of cardiac surgery at Mercy. I told him about you. It would be rather impressive if you... if he was here for our big moment.” 

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He cast a glance across the lobby and didn’t see Brienne. His eyes scanned the space and he saw her exiting through the sliding doors. His heart sank. 

“Jaime,” Margaery prodded. 

He looked at her. “Right. I don’t have a ring. I want to get my mother’s fr-.” 

“You don’t have a ring?” 

“I want you to have my mother’s ring.” 

Margaery lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “I don’t care about family heirlooms, Jaime.” 

He reeled back. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was harsh. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s fine.” 

Jaime locked his eyes on the doors, hoping to see Brienne reappear. He waited, the sound of Margaery’s voice muffled as she repeated his name and tugged on his sleeve and snapped her fingers. He looked at her, blinking. “Sorry. What?” 

“I said it’s fine if you don’t have a ring right now. We’ll go shopping when we get home.” 

“But I want you to have my mother’s ring,” he said again. 

Margaery gave him a tight smile. “Okay,” she said quickly, dismissively. 

He cast another glance at the doors. “I’ll be right back,” Jaime told her, and she groaned as he jogged away. It didn’t seem like Brienne would leave without being paid or saying goodbye, and he had to know for sure that she was gone. His eyes scanned the parking lot and the space she had occupied was empty. Dejected, his shoulders slumped and he turned back around to face Margaery. 

Perhaps Brienne was right, he thought. He was meant to marry a woman like Margaery and work in corporate law and inherit his father’s estate. He would propose and they would marry, and life would go back to the way it was before Tarth. Before he knew his life could be less predictable and more meaningful. 

“Margaery,” he said, walking toward her. “I need to ask you something.”


	5. if i never do nothing, i'll get you back some day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Brienne moves forward on Tarth, Jaime tries to convince himself he wants to start his life with Margaery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this quick little story!

Jaime stood on the balcony of the penthouse apartment he shared with Margaery. They had decided – or rather, _she_ had decided – not to move into his family’s estate for at least five years. She had also decided their engagement party should be a formal, catered affair and that Jaime should save the announcement about his promotion for another occasion. When he confessed that he’d thought about turning the offer down to practice another kind of law, she curtly pointed out that she was “not marrying a public defender.” 

He looked through the open doors to where Margaery instructed a member of the catering staff on where to set up the bar. She caught sight of him and smiled briefly before resuming her last-minute touch-ups to the food and décor. Jaime sighed and turned to view the city skyline against the backdrop of dusk. He tried to find the beauty in the outline of skyscrapers and high-rises, but the straight lines and hard angles couldn’t compare to the sunset over Tarth – the serene blue sky and plum-colored clouds, the sapphire waters and jagged cliffs and lush, green meadows. 

“There you are.” 

Jaime tensed at the sound of his father’s voice. He plastered a smile to his face and turned around. “You found me.” 

Tywin was holding two glasses of champagne and handed one to his son. “We can finally toast your promotion,” he said. 

“About that... Margaery doesn’t- I don’t want to take the attention off the engagement,” Jaime explained. “I’m not telling anyone yet.” 

Tywin accepted the information with a shrug. He held his glass aloft. “Monday morning when you get to work the door will say Lannister, Marbrand & Lannister.” 

Jaime tapped his glass against his father’s. 

“I almost forgot,” Tywin said, reaching under the lapel of his suit coat. He removed a small velvet bag. 

Jaime set his glass down and took the bag from his father. He looked inside and smiled as he recognized the sparkle of his mother’s ring. “Tyrion gave it to you?” he asked, carefully removing it and holding it on the palm of his hand. 

“Not exactly. But it’s yours now. To give to the woman you love.” 

Jaime swallowed against the lump in his throat. 

“Gentleman,” Margaery said, appearing in the doorway. “More guests are arriving.” 

Closing his fingers around the ring, Jaime told her, “Be right there, honey.” He looked at the heirloom one more time before carefully securing it in the inside pocket of his suit coat. 

* 

Throughout the evening Jaime looked at Margaery and thought himself lucky. She was beautiful and charming and their union made a lot of people happy. 

“Tell me about the proposal,” a Tyrell cousin said. 

Margaery told the story, not for the first time that evening, and Jaime realized she embellished it with every retelling. She pretended the ring on her finger – a piece of jewelry she designed after the proposal – had been in Jaime’s hand when he popped the question. She acted as though it had been a complete surprise, never letting on how she had given him an ultimatum and essentially coached him throughout. 

“How did you know he was the one?” someone asked. 

Margaery’s answer was practical and unromantic. She needed to be with someone who had a demanding career like hers. Other women in the conversation began to describe what made them fall in love with their significant others, and it was everything from a corny joke to the way the man brought flowers for every woman in the family the first time they all met him. Jaime’s mind drifted to a different time and place. A different conversation. He said, “Excuse me,” and wandered away. 

There was a fire alarm on the kitchen wall. It had been one of the first things Jaime noticed when they moved in. _In case of fire break glass_. He grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around his fist before shattering the glass. The overhead sprinklers began to pour water down in every room, and the shrill sound of the alarm muffled the chaotic noise of guests scrambling toward the door. 

Margaery hustled toward him. “Where is my purse?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Jaime told her. 

She groaned and stomped off. A moment later she returned with a jewelry box and a bag stuffed with shoes. “Grab what you can,” she instructed him, heading for the door and not once looking back to see if he was behind her. 

Jaime stood in the middle of the apartment, his hair drenched and his clothes soaked. He pressed his hand to his chest and felt his mother’s ring where he’d tucked it away. He walked slowly to the hallway and to the stairs. There was nothing else he needed to take. 

* 

Parts of Evenfall Inn smelled like fresh paint. A sign warned visitors that the guest rooms were still under construction, but the restaurant remodel was complete. The scuffed floor was replaced by pale hardwood. The seating was refurnished with blue cushions on all of the booths and chairs. Picnic tables had been set up outside in the front and the back, and for the first time in years there was a wait list to be seated at peak hours. 

Brienne looked out from the kitchen to survey the crowd. She smiled at her father standing behind the bar and he crooked his finger, waving her out from behind the door. As she approached, she saw why; Petyr Baelish was there. 

“We paid the money,” Brienne told him aggressively. 

Petyr took a drink from his pint of ale before saying, “I’m aware. I heard you were already finished with the remodel and had to see for myself.” 

“ _Almost_ finished,” she clarified, wanting him to realize it was only going to get better. 

“I still don’t know how you pulled that much money together.” 

Brienne thought about Jaime and the day she received notice that he’d wired what he owed her for the trip across Tarth plus a sizable donation for the inn. She’d considered not using it, but Selwyn had convinced her to. “Does it matter how?” 

The man conceded with a shake of his head. “I have to raise my glass to you. I tried my hardest to take this place out from under you. I was prepared to pay for the best lawyers in Westeros but they wouldn’t take my case.” 

Her heart swelled, wondering if he was referring to Jaime. 

Petyr took a generous swig of his ale and stood up. When he was gone, Brienne gave her father a kiss on the cheek and hurried back to the kitchen. 

She tied an apron over her black T-shirt and jeans and returned to the table where she had been making that day’s special – crab cake sandwiches. Occasionally she answered a line cook's question or demonstrated the best way to julienne vegetables, and every time she was addressed as _Chef Brienne_ her smile broadened. 

Life was good. Evenfall was saved and the restaurant was flourishing. There was a time Brienne needed someone – like Renly – to make her feel complete. But she’d rediscovered her talent for cooking and replenished the inn and earned respect. She was finally satisfied with herself. 

“Chef,” one of the servers called for her from the doorway. 

Brienne looked up. “Yes?” 

“There’s a guy out here... says the chicken is dry.” 

She exhaled a sharp breath through her teeth. “That’s impossible. But we can fire up another dish.” 

“He wants to talk to you about it,” the young man said, shrugging. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. She wiped her hands on the front of the apron and walked out into the dining room, her eyes searching the tables and booths. “Where is he?” she asked, and the server pointed to the back of a man’s head seated at a table alone. She marched toward him as she said, “I hear you’re dissatisfied with how I cook chi-” Brienne was rendered silent as she circled around to the other side of the table. “Jaime.” 

“Hi.” Jaime stood from his seat. 

She noticed there was nothing on the table. He hadn’t been eating anything. “What... What are...” 

“Can we talk?” he asked. 

“Um, okay.” 

Jaime smiled. “Somewhere else?” 

“Right here is fine,” Brienne said, hands on her hips. 

He laughed; she was stubborn as ever. “I like what you did with the place.” 

“Thanks.” She paused. “Is that why you’re here? You need a proper thank you for the money you sent?” 

Jaime shook his head. “No, that’s not... Can we please go somewhere and talk?” 

“Right here is fine,” she said again. 

He glanced around at the other diners. Everyone had stopped eating and talking to stare at them. 

“Is Margaery here?” she asked. 

“We aren’t together anymore.” 

The corners of her lips twitched, threatening to smile. “Sorry to hear that.” 

He shrugged and took a step closer. He smiled as he removed something from his pocket. “I have something to show you.” 

Brienne watched as he displayed a ring on the palm of his hand. The diamond sparkled and the two rubies that hugged it shined. “You got your mother’s ring back.” 

Jaime nodded. “When my sixty seconds came around, I realized I had everything a man could ever want but nothing that I needed. Everything I need is right here. I came all this way to see if you might feel the same, and if you do...” 

“What?” she asked, breathless. 

He looked at the crowd sideways before looking at Brienne again. He leaned toward her and whispered, “Can’t we go outside? I never imagined doing this with an audience of-” 

“Just say what you have to say,” someone shouted. 

Jaime laughed quietly. “My father gave me the ring and said I should give it to the woman I love. That’s why I’m here, Brienne.” 

She stared at him a long while. "I told you I didn’t want a relationship and now you’re, what, proposing with your mother’s ring?” 

“I’m trying to,” he said with a nervous laugh. 

She heaved a sigh, turned, and ran into the kitchen. 

Jaime closed his fingers around the ring. He had been so certain of his decision that he never thought about what he’d do if Brienne turned him down. He looked at the faces around him – some amused and trying poorly to hide grins, others looking at him with sympathy. “Brienne!” he called out and took off to the kitchen where one of the young cooks pointed to the door. He found her standing at cliff’s edge, looking down at the sand and sea. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I’ll leave the island and never come back,” he said. 

She turned to look at him. 

He saw the shine of tears in her eyes. “I know you’ve been hurt before. And maybe this is too much too fast. I’m not saying we have to plan a wedding today, Brienne. I just know that I fell in love with you and I don’t want to leave again.” Jaime clutched the ring in one hand and reached for her with the other. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She choked back tears and said again, with conviction, “No. Please. Stay.” 

He smiled. He showed her the ring on his palm. “We don’t have to be engaged,” Jaime said. “We can take things slowly.” 

Brienne nodded her agreement with the suggestion. 

“You don’t have to wear the ring.” 

“I want to,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” 

Jaime smiled broadly. He held her right hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, making it a promise. 

* 

The staff and guests turned the rest of the day into a not-quite-engagement party. When there were only a few people left, Brienne grabbed Jaime’s hand and said, “I want to show you what we’ve done with the rest of the place.” 

He eagerly followed her to the other side of the building. The lobby had been re-carpeted and painted. He climbed the stairs behind her and when they reached the top, he grasped her by the hips and spun Brienne around until her back was pressed to the wall. Jaime opened his mouth against hers as his hands began pulling the hem of her shirt out from under her jeans. He stopped, breathless, to ask, “Is anyone staying here?” 

Brienne shook her head. “Just us.” 

He smiled and kissed her again. 

She grabbed handfuls of his shirt, pulling him with her down the hall. They kissed as they spun and bumped into doors and knocked into a table, tipping a vase of flowers over. Brienne reached behind her back to open a door and they tumbled inside. 

Jaime took a moment to admire the space. Walls had been knocked down, creating an apartment with a spacious living room, small kitchen, and a private bathroom. Brienne reached up, framing his face with her hands, stealing his attention from their surroundings. He gladly put his focus back on her, their mouths crashing together as they moved blindly toward the bedroom. 

Inside, Jaime divested Brienne of her shirt and his own. His fingers tugged at the closure of her bra when she suddenly pressed her hands to his chest and broke the kiss. He looked at her, concerned. 

“I was thinking... I’ve waited this long to have sex. Perhaps, if we’re going to take things slowly, we shouldn’t rush to bed.” 

Jaime was silent. He bit the inside of his cheek and then said, “Whatever you want.” 

She broke into a fit of laughter. 

“What?” 

Brienne wrapped her arms around him. “I’m kidding, Jaime. I don’t want to wait a second longer.” 

“Oh, thank gods,” he said, and they fell backward onto the bed.

-the end-


End file.
